


Doomed to Repeat It

by Kay (sincere)



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, Thor (2011)
Genre: Family, Gen, Teenagers, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-22
Updated: 2012-06-15
Packaged: 2017-11-05 20:34:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/410747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sincere/pseuds/Kay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A storm in Asgard brings Thor face to face with a fifteen-year-old Loki and his arrogant, entitled past self. Thor has to wrestle with whether or not he should try to correct old mistakes... and figure out WHY they've been transported a thousand years into the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. [Thor] A Storm

It began on a strangely clear day in Asgard; the whirlwind formed out of nowhere, so dark gray as to seem deceptively violet, a hundred miles to the southwest in the Plains of Ida. Even from that distance it was visible, and its violence was clear. The plains were not given to such intense weather, not naturally, but the storm was not natural.

Thor could tell, because he could feel it in his bones. The torrential whirlwind would surely be lethal if it crossed into anyone's path or headed for the capital. Few sorcerers in Asgard had the power to create it out of, literally, the clear blue sky.

He saddled a horse and rode for it with the Warriors Three and Sif fast on his heels. The thought crossed his mind, more than once, that Loki might be behind it, that they might find him, that he might finally get his hands on his errant brother once again.

"Can you do something about this, Thor?" Fandral asked, his attention riveted on the pillar of darkness. "It's going to be getting quite ugly in a short distance now."

He shook his head. "I cannot control it," he said. "It's as if nothing is there."

"Maybe nothing _is_ ," Hogun suggested.

"An illusion this vast is no easy feat," Thor said, doubtful.

Sif said, "If it is true, then it will probably dissipate against the mountains. If it is false, then it is not what poses a threat to us."

The idea that they might be riding into a trap did not dismay them. They were prepared. Within minutes they had advanced far enough that the sky was nearly black above them, and wind and driving rain tore at their capes and cowls, they were braced for the full ferocity of the twister.

But they did not have to face it. All at once there was a resounding noise like a crack of thunder, and the dark clouds burst outward in a single instant. Thor flinched back from it, lifting an arm as the wind rushed past him, and by the time he opened his eyes again, the skies were crystal-clear.

"--Problem solved. Let's go home and have dinner," Volstagg said, uneasily.

"This is definitely magic at work," Thor said. "We cannot just walk away."

His friends looked at him, and then each other. Sif said, "Shall we split up? Canvas the area and see what traces we might find of what went on here."

"I'll take the way we just came," Fandral volunteered cheerfully.

"I will go _forward_ ," Hogun said, already spurring ahead. Sif moved to follow him, and Volstagg with Fandral, saying, "The old Giant's Trap formation. Good, good."

They would fan out and circle the area, jests of cowardice aside, and Thor had no doubt that they would do good work. So he left the front and the back to them, and turned to ride to the east first and see if he found any signs of what had happened here.

It had been a chaotic and improbable storm, and it had disappeared as surprisingly as it had manifested, but it was obvious that it had been no illusion. The grass was drenched and wind-torn, the creatures that had once skittered through it were all in hiding.

Thor came to the edge of the continent and gazed out into the sea of space. He spared only a thought for Midgard -- for Earth -- before he turned back to look on the mountains.

He was no 'weatherman', as the mortals called them, but he knew enough of Asgard's weather patterns to know that storms were rare in this area. Magic was involved, and it had not been crafted by the giants that lived high in the peaks.

But what would call someone here? There was little in the mountains to catch the attention of someone with the power to call up a whirlwind like that.

A flare of light caught his eye, low and almost below the tree level; it came from where Hogun or Sif must be exploring. Thor spurred his horse fast in that direction, racing over the plains, his mind racing far ahead to what he would find -- a fervent battle, a trap sprung, Sif hurt or gone. But after the flash there was nothing until he came upon one of his friends and her unimpressive burden.

"Here is your sorcerer," Sif said with disgust, casting the slight form forward by the cloak at his neck.

He stumbled forward and fell on the wet ground with a low noise, hurt. Thor dismounted in a sharp gesture and stalked forward, feeling a strange sensation well up inside him, and ducked down onto one knee.

It was Loki's face that turned up to see him; he knew it as well as he knew his own. But it was a face he hadn't seen in a long time.

"--Thor?" There was wonder on Loki's face, matching his own.

"What... game is this?" Thor asked, uncertainly.

He was _young_. Standing he had been shorter than Sif, and his features were pixieish, black hair short and green eyes wide. He was soaking wet, his clothes plastered to his skinny body, and bleeding lightly from a cut at his high cheekbone, bruising already. He could have been no more than fifteen.

"He did not put up much of a fight," Sif said, her voice quieter.

Thor frowned, but was unable to tear his gaze from his brother. What purpose did he serve by disguising himself as a child? Did he plan to pretend that he had aged backwards, or could not remember what he had done? Did he seek to get back into their favor, have them take him back with them to work some trouble? Even if he was truly young and it was not some transformation or illusion, there must be a reason.

Loki scrambled up, onto his knees, but he reached out to Thor, hand stretching out to touch his face. Thor let him, his heart skipping a hopeful beat, even as he wondered what Loki's goal could be.

"You're grown," Loki murmured, surprised, fingers tracing the line of his beard. "This is real. What-- What has happened?"

"That is very much what I would like to know," Thor told him, gentling his voice. _It could have been an accident. A magical spell gone awry. Even he is not immune to the vagaries of the sorcery he wields..._

"Thor." He heard the warning of caution in Sif's tone, and his jaw tightened helplessly. He knew what she wanted to say, and he agreed, but he couldn't help it.

He wanted it to be true. But he knew that he could not afford to be naive.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked.

Loki turned around, looking around them, and then mused, "The Plains of Ida? The southwest... We were out riding, but not near here. Far to the east, on the other side of the bay."

They had spent hundreds of thousands of carefree afternoons riding out there. Thor felt a heartsick pang for those more innocent days. "But you must remember the storm?" he prompted.

"Yes, I remember it." Loki's gaze steeled. "It came out of nowhere above us. We-- You and I..." And some of the steel left him again, confused. "We were torn from the backs of our horses and cast into the sky. When I hit the ground again, I must have blacked out, and then _she_ \--" He gave a fierce, irritated glare to Sif. "--clobbered me the moment I got back to my feet."

"You deserved it," Sif said, unrepentant, and set her hands on her hips cockily. "Trust me."

Thor felt his lips quirk up, but he scolded, "There's no need for quarreling yet, Sif. Save it."

" _Sif?_ " Loki was caught off-guard again, studying her, and then said, snidely, "You look ugly without your golden hair."

Her eyes flashed. "I should hope you'd enjoy _your_ handiwork."

"Mine?!"

"Oh thank the Norns. The Three are back," Thor said brightly.

The warriors were returning, each from their separate directions on horseback, but there was something strange about Fandral's steed, a red and yellow banner behind him visible even from this distance. When they were in earshot, Fandral lifted his voice to call, "You'd best see this for yourself, Thor. Because if you don't, you would swear it's another tall tale of the Warriors Three."

Seated behind him on his horse was a young blond warrior, sitting proud and upright with his features uncannily familiar, and Mjolnir's unmistakable shape belted at his hip.


	2. [Prince Loki] A Test

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for any confusion with naming. It's hard to write a fic with multiple Thors in it, as it turns out.

There were a lot of things that Loki found inconveniencing and annoying, but by far the worst, he felt, was having not the slightest idea what was happening around him. Falling out of the sky, taken out in a single blow by a woman, confronted with an older specter of his brother... And he had no explanations to offer for it. Quick of wit and always curious about his surroundings, he had never in his life been in a situation where he had been so utterly lost.

Was it the future? An illusion? A trial?

It wasn't until the man in the green suit rode into view with _his_ Thor riding behind, his infinitely more familiar face, that he finally felt as if his feet touched the ground again. He lit up, exclaiming, "Brother!" and Thor swung immediately down from the horse, racing up to him and taking his biceps in a tight grip.

"You're hurt," Thor said, and scowled up at Sif and his lookalike, wary. "How did this happen?"

Suddenly embarrassed to relate the story, Loki murmured, "It's not important. Thor, I think--"

"You must be me," he said, turning to face the older version of himself and sizing him up with a glance. The elder blond looked amused, folding his well-muscled arms and waiting patiently for the evaluation to complete. Thor's gaze settled briefly on the hammer that he bore, the twin to his own, and then lifted to his face again. "Fandral told me there was an older version of myself here."

"And I'm so thrilled to see that there's a second Loki to match, too," Fandral said, leaning forward. "That makes me feel ever so much better."

Loki said, sharply, "Another me?" and looked around.

The older Thor lowered his head, gaze trailing over the ground. He murmured, "This... is without doubt an odd situation. But it seems as though younger versions of myself and Loki have been brought here through the storm."

Volstagg barked out a laugh, slapping his stomach as if at a joke. "That's the maddest thing I've ever heard," he said, "outside of our old drinking stories."

"If it were only Loki here, I could believe it to be a trick. But how can you explain _him_?" The blond god gestured at his young counterpart, and Loki felt his brother stiffen a little at the casual rudeness, and he murmured, "Don't, Thor." It was no more an insult than the casual reference to Loki playing tricks.

"Loki could have transformed a rat into a godling. I'm sure I don't know the ways of sorcery."

That was too much insult to be shrugged off; " _Excuse_ yourself," Thor exclaimed, indignant, and Loki grabbed at his hand, a physical reminder to be calm.

Loki told them, "You have us outnumbered, and we certainly have been transported far afield, so I'll assume that this is in fact your home... your time. But this _is_ Thor, son of Odin, and you must know it. Who else would bear a hammer twin to that one?"

There was a brief pause, no one able to deny the logic, and then the elder Thor spoke again, reasonable. "You are sixteen," he said.

Thor's brows drew together. "Yes," he said, slow. "How did you know?"

Loki sighed, and reminded him, "Because you were given the hammer for your birthday, Brother."

The expression cleared immediately, until his counterpart said, "Then you will not know how to use it well."

"I can use it well _enough_ ," Thor returned, rising to what he perceived as a challenge, but the older man lifted his hands, waving to brush it off.

"I meant no offense. Only that I cannot ask you to show me its full power, to prove its identity."

That did not console Thor much, but Loki said into his ear, "Drop it. Let them test their worthiness."

It was a sore point of his that Mjolnir had not yielded (yet!) to his own touch, but he knew with confidence that the Warriors Three and Sif would fare no better.

The words put a smirk on Thor's face, as well, and he unbuckled the hammer from his hip, tossing it to the ground with a heavy _thump_. "I do not need to use its full power to show you that it is the true Mjolnir, and I am its true wielder," he bragged. "Go on, Fandral. Try to lift it."

He chose Fandral as the one who had brought him, and thus the one he felt most comfortable commanding; the warrior slid off his horse without objection, though he murmured, "He picked me. Wonderful. I wouldn't want to walk away from today's little adventure without a strained back," and Volstagg snickered in return, "You'll tell all the ladies you threw it out fighting some storm giant anyway."

Fandral ducked down to wrap both hands around the hilt and braced himself before tugging, and then heaving with all his might. The hammer did not budge from its spot on the ground, and he could not so much as roll it onto its side.

"Damn," he gasped. "That's it, all right."

And then he yelped and dove out of the way as Mjolnir abruptly snapped upright and soared through the air, tucking itself into the older Thor's hand as if it belonged there, and Loki felt his brother tense again.

"Warn a man first!" Fandral complained.

"How did you do that?" There was genuine awe in Thor's voice. "You just opened your hand and it -- came! Teach me how to do that!"

The older man chuckled, turning the hammer over in his hand. "You'll figure it out," he said, withdrawing his own from its place at his hip and comparing them, one in each fist.

Two Mjolnirs; nearly identical, with hardly a scar or a mark or a trace of faded engraving on the older one.

"So much power in one place," Loki realized, the words hushed, and instantly five sets of eyes were fixed on him with suspicion, and both he and Thor bristled, his brother stepping protectively in front of him. "W... What?"

They all seemed to swing into action immediately, as if the words had been a missing piece of a puzzle. "We should get them out of here," Hogun insisted, and Sif whistled for her horse.

"We shall sort this out when we get back to Asgard," said the elder Thor, tossing the hammer back to his counterpart carelessly and returning to hoist himself into the saddle.

Thor caught it, and said, firmly, "We will require our _own_ mount, I think."

This time the looks they received were exasperated rather than wary.

"I am not about to sit on the back of someone else's stallion," Thor protested. "I am a son of Odin! A prince of Asgard!"

"Yet you expect me to ride behind you, don't you?" Loki grumbled.

Thor turned to look at him, eyes widening briefly, as if surprised to hear the complaint. "What? --You don't want to?"

Thor was thoughtless, and rash, and arrogant, and rude; but he never meant any harm, and so even if Loki chafed at his behavior sometimes, he always found it impossible to say the words that would hurt his brother's feelings. "No... No, I'll ride with you. It's only reasonable, since there's five mounts and seven riders," he added quickly.

The older Thor watched them with a strange, distant expression, and then turned, commanding, "Sif! You ride with me. Let _Prince_ Thor have your reins."

Much pleased with these results, Thor turned back to them, saying, "If I am to be Prince Thor, then what am I to call you?"

The blond god smiled fleetingly as Sif hefted herself up behind him. "I am content simply to be Thor."

"That might be helpful for some of you," Loki said, sighing. He could not say that he was surprised that even in the future as a grown man, his brother could not conceive of the needs of others. He was not about to call Thor by his title, as if that title were not his as well.

The older Thor paused again, studying him briefly, and then he said, "Call me Big Brother." He nodded at his younger self. "Brother and Big Brother -- that should be simple enough, don't you think?"

It did not escape Loki: the meaningful glances, the sentimental hesitations and wistful expressions, the unease that everyone seemed to share. Something was afoot here, creating a tension he could not quite explain.

He wondered where the older Loki was, and why he was not with Thor and his friends.

He said, "That will have to do, I suppose," and accepted Thor's proffered hand as he swung up onto the back of his own horse.


	3. [Frigga] A Heartache

Frigga was in the garden when she heard the clamor of the returning investigation party, and she climbed quickly to her feet, brushing dirt from her gown with a small bundle of camomile in her hands. She knew that she was not the only one who had wondered if the unnatural formation of the storm had been created by her wayward son, and her first thought on their return is, _Did they find him? Is he home again?_

When he had been brought home in chains, she had thought that her heart would burst from the sorrow of it. When he had been unable to look her in the eye during her visits to him, as if he could not bear to acknowledge her, she had thought she felt it break. But when he had escaped and fled from Asgard... it had been so much worse. She hadn't slept since he left.

But she had scarcely reached the gate when Hogun of the Warriors Three rode up to her and dropped off his horse, sinking into a low bow. "I bring news, my queen," he breathed thickly.

Nothing straightforward, then, or they would not have felt the need to notify her before she found them herself. Frigga drew herself to her full height, standing straight, and though her gaze darted up to the main causeway, she asked with composure, "What has happened?"

He was a man of few words. "At the site of the storm we found two children." His head never lifted, still bent in his bow, eyes fixed firmly on her feet. "Your sons -- from a thousand years in the past."

Frigga caught her breath briefly, her mind reeling. A thousand years ago... That could mean anything, but mostly it meant that they were _young_ , new to their own abilities and feelings, innocent...

Composure forgotten, she flew past Hogun without another word, racing for the gate where the other riders would have to enter the palace. There was a crowd blocking her way as she drew close, whispering amongst themselves and keeping their distance, and Frigga called, "Make way!" to clear a path for herself. They stepped aside quickly, letting her see for herself, and then she could not look away.

Thor at sixteen had already been tall, becoming broad and strong, although he did not have the same powerful musculature yet that his older self showed, standing all but directly behind him. His hair was long and tied back loosely at the nape of his neck, and he bore himself with a confidence and security that was eminently familiar.

And Loki, at fifteen, was still gawky with adolescence, limbs long but body still thin; his hair was neat and lightly feathered about his face, and his green eyes were focused on those around him, attentive as he drank in every word, every unspoken hint. He was the one who looked up first at Frigga's approach -- he looked up, and he smiled.

"Mother," he said happily.

Frigga felt tears well up, but she met that smile with one of her own, crossing the courtyard and lifting a hand to touch his jaw, feeling the cool, smooth skin, and then bringing her other hand up to touch his brother.

"My boys," she whispered.

Behind the children, Thor told her, "They cannot explain the circumstances of their arrival here, and neither can we. However they have come here, it is vital that we protect them."

"Yes, of course." Frigga shared the smile with him as well. She counted herself lucky to have her son grown so responsible and powerful, into a man she could be proud of. But like many mothers, she had loved having _children_ , who needed her and looked up to her. "Whatever circumstances brought them, they are family."

Loki's gaze was fond and clear, completely lacking in reserve. It was hard not to focus her attention obviously on him, not to think, _It's like having a second chance! This time... We could tell him, tell him the right way, and maybe..._

The younger Thor said, "Obviously we need to go back as soon as possible, but until we can figure out what happened here, we couldn't ask for better company."

"Your father will be so happy to have the two of you," she confided, and saw doubt flicker across Loki's fine features. "He'll be back from his summit later tonight, so we shall see him at dinner."

"Is Loki with him?" the younger Thor asked curiously.

Frigga was at a loss for words, hesitating for a heartbeat, and it was the older Thor who answered, "No, he is not. He has recently returned from a rather troubling visit to Midgard and is not yet well enough to join us, I'm sorry to say."

Thor had never been one for lying, but he must have been practicing that half-truth in his mind during the ride. It was perhaps the best lie that he had ever told, spoken with confidence and unflinching. But it would not be convincing enough.

"Let's get you both settled," Frigga said, urging them to come with her.

Her heart was singing the whole way, through idle conversation and vague reassurances. She left them in the chambers that they would share, and hastened to meet Thor in the hallway beyond. She immediately drew him into a tight embrace, and he returned it, squeezing her almost breathless in the curve of his strong arms.

"It's a miracle," she whispered.

"We cannot rule out the possibility that this has been orchestrated by someone," Thor cautioned her, but she could see when she looked up at his face that he felt the same fierce hope that she did.

"Even so, it is a miracle," she insisted. "We have been given the opportunity to make amends -- to fix our mistakes. You can provide counsel to your past self, and we... we can tell him."

Thor shook his head, to her surprise. "What if it doesn't help?"

Frigga's fingers tightened into his armor. "Thor, the lies are the reason that he cannot believe in us anymore. We _must_ tell him the truth this time."

"You and I reached out to him again and again after he learned the truth," he said, his voice heavy and his expression taut with regret. "He had a thousand years with us, and he still could not believe we cared for him when he learned. What if it's too late already? What if all we do is hasten him to that bitter conclusion?"

"He's so young! It _can't_ be too late," Frigga pleaded. It was a conversation she had struggled through with Odin more than once over the centuries, countless times hoping that he would finally choose to relent. Knowing how Loki's turn had broken Thor's heart, she hadn't expected to ever have to have it with him.

Thor grimaced. "Even in the little time since he's arrived, I've seen him. His... His jealousy. His fear." He ducked his head, pressing his forehead against hers, and his blue eyes were shut. "--What if we tell him, and lose him again?"

"Thor," she said, soft. "He _loves_ you." She knew it, had always known it; it had never been less than perfectly obvious to her, even with all Loki's games. But she was his mother, and she knew him better than anyone. "Then, and now."

"I didn't think it had started when we were so young," he said, hopeless. "For all of those years, he carried that..." She knew that he blamed himself for not seeing the signs, the same ones that he now looked for so intensely when he saw the two of them together.

"We can change it," she whispered. "We can fix it."

There was a part of her that knew that it was a dangerous line to tread. No matter what force had brought the boys that she had raised back in time, no matter what the reason, they would have to go home. It was likely that they came from a world subtly different, a world that had been inextricably changed from her own by their disappearance; that interfering in their lives would not bring about any change to the present.

It was likely that they would not be tampering with their own past... That it would not help Loki now, nor would it undo what they had done.

But if they had the chance to do it _right_ , even if there was still the chance that doing so would be risky, she could not pretend not to want that.

Thor murmured, "Father will know what to do." And then he said, reluctantly, "I... I can at least talk to him. To myself. Perhaps seek to teach him what I have learned. If that can make things easier for Loki, then maybe we won't need to tell him..."

Frigga lifted a hand to gently stroke his shining hair, and murmured, "I hope that will be enough."

But the guilt, the knowledge that they would be perpetuating the lie that had driven Loki away from them, still lingered, and she knew that Thor felt it as well.

She would just have to bring it to Odin when he returned, and hope that he had realized now the mistake in letting his house be built upon deception.

"All will be well," she reassured Thor, smiling at him when he looked up at her. "Have faith."

She was still his mother, after all. He was the son that she would have left to take care of when the boys were gone again, back to where they came from.

He was the only son she had left, and so all she could do -- her first priority -- was try to ease the ache of his gentle heart.


	4. [Prince Thor] A Suspicion

The older version of himself had lived many, many times his current lifespan, so perhaps it was natural that something about him rang oddly to Thor. He seemed well-liked by those around him, smiled quickly and laughed easily, but he also seemed strangely relaxed, unconcerned.

Perhaps he had reason to be, with that skill of his. Thor fidgeted in his seat, and turned, whispering to Loki, "Do you think I should ask him to spar with me?"

Loki glanced at him, lifting his eyebrows. "That depends on how sorely your ego wants bruising."

A grin threatened at his lips, quickly contained. "Well-- Training, then. Or I could watch him spar with someone else. I wouldn't mind," he said.

"You're not-- Brother. Don't you dare hero worship _yourself_."

"Who better!"

"Anyone. Anyone would be better."

Thor did not let the negative words dissuade him. It was obvious that in the future he became a valiant and noble warrior, respected and mature, and he had every reason in the Nine Realms to be proud of that. _He_ was the heir to the throne, _he_ was the champion of Asgard, and _he_ had effortless, easy control over the vast power of Mjolnir.

He was damned impressive, if he did say so himself.

They were already serving and chatting among themselves when Odin All-Father entered the hall. Silence fell instantly; his family sitting up straighter in their seats, setting down utensils and food and waiting expectantly for him to stride up and join them. His gait was firm and fast, a raven clinging to one shoulder as he paced forward. His single eye swept over them all, evaluating them as he moved to the head of the table.

 _Thor_ may have become quite different, but Father and Mother had scarcely changed in a thousand years, Thor decided. He turned to smile at Odin as he sank into his seat. "Father," he acknowledged cheerfully. "I heard you were at a summit. How did it go?"

"As well as could be expected." He looked down at the left side of the table, his two young sons, and said, "But things here have progressed in a very _un_ expected manner in my absence, I am given to understand. You are welcome at our table, Prince Thor, and Prince Loki."

A quiet ripple ran through the hall behind him, but Thor did not bother turning his head to investigate. He said, "And I thank you for having us," directing an amused, private grin at Loki. As if Father wouldn't have welcomed them at his table!

But he found Loki's expression downcast, thoughtful, looking up only when he noticed Thor's attention, and then transferring his gaze to Odin. "It has been a harrowing day, but it's come to a pleasant end if it brings us here, enjoying dinner with the whole family," he said brightly.

The rest of their little family smiled faintly and nodded, looking at each other. Thor turned to him with a laugh. "Loki, what are you talking about? Where's that vaunted intellect of yours? _You_ are missing from this table."

"Ah-- Yes, of course." Loki looked embarrassed, caught out. "We haven't met him... And it's still so strange to think there's another of me that it slipped my mind."

Thor frowned, lowering his voice to ask, "Are you all right?" Loki was a good liar and an experienced actor, but Thor recognized the signs that his brother was preoccupied with troubling thoughts.

Loki looked at him, for just a moment uncertain, vulnerable, and then shook his head. "Don't worry about me," he returned in a similar undertone.

 _He doesn't say 'yes,'_ Thor noted, lifting his mug to drink. But Loki was a bit of a cipher, and kept his own counsel; he would speak when he was inclined to, or when Thor pinned him relentlessly and bullied it out of him. Either way, it wouldn't be now.

His older self addressed Odin, saying, "We should have a talk, later. About the security of the palace."

"Among other things," Frigga added, soft.

Boring politics and patrol details, things that by all appearances Thor would not have to concern himself with for hundreds of years yet; a thousand, since he was not yet king. He dismissed it without interest, helping himself to another serving of boar's meat.

"But tomorrow," he interrupted them eagerly. "Will you have some time available?" He pointed his knife's tip at the Thor from this time period. "If you're going to train, I'd like to watch. And maybe you could show me that trick you do with Mjolnir. I tried it earlier and couldn't manage it."

"Left it on me for nearly half an hour while failing at it," Loki added, rolling his eyes.

The warrior laughed. "I think we can manage something like that. But in return, you have to promise me you won't use Loki in any more of your practices," he said, the grin slipping as he sobered.

Thor blinked, straightening. "It was just in fun," he protested.

"Fun for you, but you should listen to him if he doesn't want that kind of play."

Thor glanced at Loki, who looked just as startled by the remonstration as he was. Loki said quickly, "I'm not defenseless, you know -- Big Brother. I can express my displeasure quite thoroughly, even on my back on the floor."

"That-- I did not mean it in that way..."

"It sounds like he doesn't _mind_ that kind of play," Thor countered with a deliberately casual shrug.

The words stayed with him, slightly chafing as they left the dining hall after dessert, and he cast a sidelong look at Loki. The torchlight seemed to darken his brother even more, making his eyes and hair glitter like polished onyx as he moved, lost in thought, stepping through the corridors of their home by memory alone. He was beautifully fey, unique; not quite like anyone else that Thor knew.

They had so little in common but blood. Loki was clever and prone to intellectual pursuits, reading and games of strategy; his penchant was for magick rather than swords. He had some time ago moved to his own weapons practice and his own academic lessons, and he seemed to come out with Thor and his friends as a matter of course, rather than because he enjoyed their activities.

If Thor stopped dragging him into light-hearted roughhousing, he could think of no other way to show Loki that their dissimilarities made no difference to him.

"If you were to keep a secret from me," Loki asked suddenly, "what would it be?"

Another stellar example of how Loki's mind inhabited a realm completely other than his own. Thor stared at him, blank, before saying, "None at all! I'm not that much of a fool. You always know if I'm hiding something."

"That's why it's a hypothetical," Loki explained, amused. "You know that I won't be sold on half-hearted lies, and you know that you're no good at lying. So what kind of secret would you try to keep from me, even given all of that?"

Thor frowned, turning his head up to the ceiling. "I suppose... something I thought might hurt you to hear," he said. Even then he wasn't sure. Loki was so unpredictable, his mind working in such odd ways, it seemed unlikely that he would even be able to guess what would hurt him before it was too late.

Loki looked back down at the marble floor beneath their feet. "If I had died, they would simply say so," he mulled.

That drew Thor up short, startled. "They said that you were resting from a visit to Midgard!"

"And naturally you believed them," Loki said, wry, "because you don't pay attention."

"You think they're lying to us? Why _would_ they?"

"I'm working on it, Brother." Loki patted his shoulder, urging him silently to keep moving. "There's nothing wrong with a death in battle, or even a death from illness. But they seem more content to avoid the topic entirely, which means -- they are ashamed, probably."

" _Why?_ " Thor demanded again, quiet, but feeling anger heating under his skin, flushing his face.

"I'm not sure. Perhaps I..." Loki fell silent for a moment, and then shook his head. "I don't know. There's a lot that I still don't understand."

No wonder Loki had been troubled all throughout dinner, if he had been thinking like this. But now that Thor gave it the same consideration, he was dissatisfied by the explanations they had been given. Why had Loki been in Midgard? Why had the mission been so very exhausting that he couldn't even surface to see his own past self? Was he injured or simply uncurious?

And when Loki had said, _dinner with the whole family_ , no one had spoken up for his older self.

Thor shoved into the room they had been given to share, and pulled at the fastenings on his jacket, starting to shed his clothing fast and irritable. How dare they be _ashamed_ of Loki? In the morning he would have words with them, he decided. This was _their_ future, their family. Their lives. If something was wrong, they deserved to be told.

Even with good intentions, anything less -- from people he loved and admired -- felt like being told that they could not be trusted with the truth.

Later, after the lights were out, Loki slid silently into Thor's bed and curled against his side, burying his face against the crook of brother's neck. He was cold, but Thor only drew him closer, and said nothing.


	5. [Thor] A Decision

The discussion, as it might politely be termed, had gone on long into the night, and little satisfaction had been reached. Thor was still unsettled when he headed out to the training grounds.

In truth, they were all very concerned about how they had been brought to the present-day Asgard, and who might take advantage of them. But time and again the conversation had drifted from _How do we protect them?_ to _How can we save them from our mistakes?_ None of them had known what to do, each torn. Odin had deep concerns about what telling them more than they already knew might do to them; Frigga had been staunchly in favor of sharing everything; and Thor had argued for both sides, hating himself all the while for being such a coward that even in his own heart, he couldn't decide what he wanted.

It had been mentioned more than once that if the prodigal son did not already know that they were here, he would certainly learn of it soon.

 _If we do not speak to him, then Loki will,_ Frigga had said, trembling with her agitation. _And you can be certain that his telling will cast us in no good light._

It might be optimistic to think it would have to be Loki who told him, however. He found the two young princes already in the training grounds, Prince Thor seated on the back of a bench and Prince Loki leaning against one leg, folded up to his chest. He overheard the young trickster saying in an undertone, "See how they're all lined up in their heavy armor? If you knocked one over, I bet the rest would topple like bone tiles," and his brother snickering easily, slapping his knee.

Thor stifled a smile of his own, girding himself. It was mean to smile at such an idea, but it was familiar. They had had good times together. But he couldn't help noticing -- and he doubted it slipped past Loki's attention -- the wary looks of those warriors who weren't ignoring them, the lingering resentment and mistrust that might have prompted the dark-haired prince to his cruel tease.

"Ready for a little training?" he asked them, hands on his hips.

Prince Thor looked up, eyes brightening, and he hopped over the back of the bench to join him. "More than," he said confidently. "Just say the word!"

Loki turned around to watch them, resting his chin on folded arms. He seemed to be in good spirits even with whatever else might be on his mind, and Thor smiled to himself, turning his attention to his young counterpart.

"Let's see you warm up first."

It was about an hour before Prince Thor was breathless and flushed with vigor and ready to move on with the day's exercises, but instead of proceeding to physical training the way an ordinary practice would go, Thor explained to him the workings of Mjolnir as best he could. Summoning the hammer to his hand was simple, but it had impressed his younger self, and so it was clearly a good place to start learning.

"Tell me about everyone," the youth commanded easily, standing still with hand outstretched.

"Everyone?" Thor echoed.

"Who were you with, yesterday? Fandral and the others. They seemed familiar."

Loki was still watching from the sidelines, and he said lazily, "The woman was Sif, Brother. Sif without her pretty golden hair."

"Sif? --That's right!" Prince Thor paused, thoughtful, and then said with naked admiration, "I wouldn't have thought so, but she looks beautiful even without it."

Thor couldn't help stealing an amused glance at Loki, who sighed and rolled his eyes. It had been a long time ago, a long time since he'd even thought of it; as a boy he'd been so enamored of Sif that Loki's prank had sent him into a rage. A distant memory, and what had seemed horribly malicious then felt utterly insignificant now. He should be so lucky that all Loki would ask to be satisfied was to shear Jane's hair.

He glanced away then, his chest tightening. --He should be so lucky, indeed. But he collected himself and added, "The others were the Warriors Three. Fandral, Volstagg, Hogun. You know of them?"

"Of course," said his younger self, surprised. "So I become friends with them... I'm not surprised." He put a hand on his hip, cocky, before Loki prodded him, "You won't be summoning any hammers that way, fool."

Thor agreed, "Focus on developing a sense for it in your mind. Once you've _moved_ it, perhaps we may see about moving it while conversing."

"What if there are things I want to talk about?" Prince Thor said, giving his brother a sidelong look that made Thor frown again. "What of Loki? Are they friends with him, too?"

Then both of them were looking straight at him with piercing, even stares, all attempts at practicing forgotten. Their attention was like that of one entity, two halves of a whole: the quick wit and the quick spirit, mind and heart, and Thor felt a sudden unbearable sense of loss.

He had forgotten _so much_ of how they had once been.

He was winded as if he had been struck a devastating blow when he answered reluctantly, "Not... at first."

"And now?" the young blond asked.

"Nor of late." There was a time when they had enjoyed Loki's company, clapped his shoulder in gratitude for quick thinking, roared with approval at his additions to their endless stories, sang with him on those late nights when he bothered to accompany them. Loki had been as much a part of their little group as Thor and Sif; a natural companion on their trips. Thor had rarely even considered going on a journey or an adventure without offering Loki a place by his side.

Then foolishness had separated Thor from them, and suspicion and mistrust had twisted his friends from Loki; and then lies and desperation had finished the job.

"What I think my brother is trying to ask," Loki interceded, "is if there is anything you might want to say to me."

Thor looked at that unwavering green gaze, and he wondered if all that he wanted to say could even be put into words. _I'm sorry. I miss you. I didn't understand. I still don't. I want to make it right. I should never have allowed you to feel taken for granted. I wish that you would have confided in me. I would die for you. I never realized how I needed you by my side, and always will. I cannot condone your actions but I could never condemn you._

_I can no longer bear to stare at these two children who remind me of all our best times and worst failures._

He swallowed, and he knew that he was lost. More than anything he dreaded the possibility that Loki would hear the news and his betrayal would be too deep to mend, but he finally saw that he could not let it play out the same way again. If there was even a small chance that Loki might react differently... He had to take it.

Thor said, heavily, "Come with me. I will take you to Odin. Now."

Loki pushed himself upright, and crossed silently to join him, his figure slight and young in the unrelentingly clear sunlight. Prince Thor straightened, heading to retrieve Mjolnir and join them.

Thor had to hold up a hand to stop him, shaking his head. "--Prince Loki alone."

"What?!"

"Brother," Loki murmured, not hesitating for even a moment. "It will be all right. You... keep up with your practice. I'll come to get you when I have spoken to Father."

Thor's young counterpart looked at a loss, startled and confused and hurt. Loki's desire to hear the story alone must mean that he had suspicions about the sort of tale it would be, and did not want to risk that it would turn his brother against him. And though the Loki in Thor's memories had always brushed away that wounded look with quick words -- quick lies, maybe -- the fact that he only turned away now, expression tense and unhappy, spoke of how great his fear had built in this last day.

It took so little time to tear down happy ignorance.

Thor wished that he could reassure them both somehow. He put a hand on the young Loki's shoulder, wordlessly trying to tell him, _It will be all right. I know that you have doubts, but he won't give up on you. I haven't._

If he could not make his Loki believe that, at least he could try to tell this one.

They crossed the courtyard together, leaving Prince Thor to the practice yard with enchanted hammer held powerlessly in his hand.


	6. [Loki] A Tale

It was child's play to separate the prince from his would-be protectors. As a young boy -- and indeed for most of his adult life -- Thor had been impulsive, arrogant and thoughtless. He had always been at the center of attention. Perceiving himself as rejected by his family, he had saddled up a horse and taken off to ride out his frustrations. Predictable.

A magpie winged over him, catching his attention.

An illusion to guide him to Loki.

Loki was poised under a tree, waiting for him with his thoughts a hundred miles away, deep in the heart of Asgard's capital. He had not been this close to its gleaming pillars, and its vast dangers, since his escape. But it was worth the risk when he turned his head, and found the young Thor riding slowly up to him, his eyes wide and expression thoroughly disarmed.

"Welcome, Brother," Loki told him.

"I've _finally_ found you," Prince Thor said, lighting up as he swung down from his mount. "We've all been wondering where you were!"

He had always been effusively warm and physically affectionate, and Loki smiled faintly, holding up a hand to forestall the embrace that he knew would be coming. "And now you have tracked me down. I'm sorry to cause you worry. I wanted to see you."

The boy's confusion was plain on his face. "Then why didn't you come?"

He shook his head. "...Because I am no longer welcome in Asgard."

In those days, Thor had been proud, unbent and unyielding, exasperating his more mild brother with his whimsical demands and casual dismissals. But everyone had always been fond of him: for every prideful boast there was a moment of compassionate faith, for every whimsical demand made a supportive hand outreached, and for every casual dismissal a kind gesture. He had charisma, and he would become a powerful, honorable warrior, yet he had a gentle soul. Everyone had always known it, and loved him for it.

Even Loki had been helpless to do anything but love him. He had longed to have those traits for his own, to receive that same praise and to be the one who was admired. But those were among the many birthrights that belonged only to Thor. And yet he had never found the will to hold on to his distance or his irritation.

Beautiful, golden Thor. And foolish, naive Loki; one of his many sycophants.

He would take advantage of that pitiable boy.

Thor's stunned quiet morphed quickly into animation. "What is that to mean? Not _welcome_?"

"So they haven't told you," Loki mused. "I should have known. They prefer keeping the truth close to their chests."

Thor's jaw tightened, and he said, "As do you. You-- my little brother, I know he has his fears and he will not tell me of them. But _you_ will tell me what I want to know."

It was more command than request, and Loki's lips curved up. "You know that I would. But... you will not like it."

"Tell me. And if it can be done, I will make it right." Thor folded his arms, confident and ridiculous. "You belong home in Asgard, with me."

The same hateful, thoughtless words. Loki fought the urge to lash out at him, to say whatever was necessary to make him take them back. One Thor was very much like the other in this matter, a thousand years between them or not. "It isn't so simple, I'm afraid," he said instead.

"I want to know!" Maybe it was the fact that this Loki was older than he was; maybe he had been genuinely rattled by being lied to and left behind. But the young Thor's features shifted, tensed, and then eased into something less arrogant and more hopeful. "Please... There is much of this time I do not understand. But I _would_ know it, if you would just confide in me."

Loki turned away with a small sigh. "...All right. But you must promise me that you won't get upset."

There was a flicker of doubt, uncertainty, before Thor said, "Yes-- Of course."

Loki tilted his head up. It was easy to say certain things in certain ways, and to create certain impressions that would lead to certain results. He had always found it simple to manipulate those around him. It was the one advantage he felt he had, when his brother could enslave everyone around him with a grin and a fond touch.

Then a harmless manipulation had gone horribly wrong, and nothing had ever righted again.

"The truth is," he said, "that we have been lied to all of our lives, about the most fundamental truths of who we are."

He waited for the denial, and then it came: "What? That's impossible. You must be mistaken."

"There is no mistake, I'm afraid." Loki bowed his head, curved his shoulders. "Thor and Loki are not, and never have been... brothers."

And then there was stunned silence for a long beat, just the wind rushing between them, setting the leaves to whispering overhead. Loki turned around to see the blond youth, take in his stricken expression, visibly unsure what to think, maybe whether or not to believe it.

Loki laughed, self-deprecating. "I am not even Asgardian," he said, though he did not elaborate. The idea would drive it home; better not to put a revolting face on it.

"But-- Then... Why..."

"--Odin took a child as a conquest of war," Loki murmured. "He thought that in the future, he could make use of that child to enforce the peace. A tool, no different than any other in the Vault."

Thor shook his head, trying to reject the words. "This is... madness. Father would _not_ \-- What point was there raising you as a prince of Asgard? He groomed you to rule _with_ me!"

"Until the day what Odin had intended to be a pretty fiction of ruling became the truth."

This was the part of the tale he'd been looking forward to. Loki felt still, a growing tightness inside that threatened to tear him apart as he murmured intently, "Father banished you, Thor. He saw that you were proud and brave and willing to challenge him, and so he banished you to Midgard so that you would learn to be like the mortals and bow before his words."

He saw Thor stiffen, knew what he was thinking as if he had placed the thoughts in his head with magic: _No wonder I'm so different, that explains how I've changed, how I've become so unassuming..._

And he didn't stop. "But he misjudged. He thought he could stay awake while you were banished, but the Odinsleep came upon him, and the throne fell to me. And even asleep, it burned him to know that someone other than his true son sat the throne. I... was never the one he wanted."

Thor shook his head, numbly. "Loki..."

"He woke as soon as he could, and sought to depose me," Loki continued, relentless. "They called me madman and usurper. I think they must have thought that having tasted power, I would never willingly let go of it, even though I have _never_ sought the throne. They threw me from the Bifrost Bridge... and into the abyss beyond."

It was mostly the truth, but all of it rang with conviction. He had told and retold that story, invented and reinvented it, so many times in his heart. The pitiful tale of an unwanted child who had never had any prospects, who had tried everything to prove himself and failed, who had simply given up on life when rejected... That story gave him no spark, no anger to nurture into grand rebellion. So he recited another one, over and over, twisting it until it felt more real than the truth, even to him. The rightful king; deposed and betrayed; wronged by those who had pretended to love him.

Loki was very good at lying.

He murmured, "You can't imagine what I've seen, what I've -- endured." Still more truths, and his fingers dropped to his side, the memory of past torments still fresh in his mind. The Chitauri had made very sure that he would know the sort of thing he could look forward to if he betrayed them. It had not stopped him, but he could not forget, either. "And then when I fought my way back here, back to the Nine Realms... They arrested me."

"Your words are outrageous," the young Thor interrupted. He was quivering now with his barely-suppressed agitation; he started to pace, just once back and forth, and then he turned on his heel, stepping back over to Loki and gripping his shoulders. They were of a height. "--I think there is a misunderstanding. We will _fix_ this. You will come home again!"

"No!" Loki said, his voice firm if trembling, shaking his head. "I barely escaped their wrath last time, Brother--" Just a beat, calculated, before correcting more softly, "--Thor," and seeing the blond flinch away, hurt.

The injury was well-placed, and a steel crept into the boy now, firming his shoulders and darkening his clear blue eyes. "We will talk to Father. We will _make_ him listen."

Loki smiled at him, faint. "I know you want that. I always believed you would be on my side. But _he_ \-- the Thor of this time, he cannot stand up to Odin. I cannot expect you to succeed where he has failed."

And the seeds were well-planted, unfurling into determination. "Maybe he learned too much from those mortals. Maybe Father will listen to how _I_ say it," Thor said, his voice edged, and a crack of thunder rang through the clear sky of the plains.

Loki reached out to grip his shoulder, stricken wordless with gratitude, but privately he thought, _Yes, Odinson. Go into Asgard with your spirits ablaze._

_It will be much appreciated._


	7. [Odin] A Truth

After his audience was complete, Odin took to the floor to speak to his councilors, as he usually did. But the doors to the great hall yawned open, and Thor entered, his normally light and jovial features settled into almost melancholy lines, and behind him like a shadow was the far slighter Prince Loki, carefully neutral.

There could only be one reason for their arrival. _Thor has made up his mind,_ Odin thought, a great weariness filling him. He said simply, "Thank you for waiting. Come join me in the library."

There was no reason to pick the library other than the hope Loki would find it a balm. The vast arches of the palace's great library had always been home to him. He had never been more comfortable than there, all his private concerns about his image and his status falling away. He would fold in on himself nimbly in a chair buried in a history book, or practice a new spell with open, childlike wonder, late into the night.

Odin had never known how to express his feelings, but he had always watched over his sons, learning their ways and their habits. He knew more about them than they had ever realized.

He settled heavily into a chair as Thor told him, "Prince Loki seeks to learn the truth, and I think the only correct course is to tell him."

"I understand," Odin said, with a small nod of his head. He had no intention of fighting it, not anymore, with all of his family united in their desires. It was a relief, in a way, to have the decision lifted from his hands. He told the boy, "Then there is much that we must discuss. Much for you to learn about who -- and what you are."

" _What_ I am?" Loki's eyes widened, minutely, and then narrowed again. "What's that supposed to mean?" And then, scarcely a beat later, "Am I... not--" and then, weakly, as if hoping it would be laughed off, "...your son?"

He had always been smart, so smart. With only that one little phrase, his agile mind had leapt instantly from his prior suspicions to the truth. Odin hesitated, taken aback, and Thor, too, stiffened, and that was all that Loki needed to confirm.

"I'm not, am I," he whispered, and his gaze flickered, distressed, between the two older men, and then his fingers tangled in front of him, a reflexive, nervous gesture. "I'm not one of us. But I thought -- then what does that--!"

"Loki, stop," Odin said, trying to lift his voice to cut through the rambling words without sounding punishing. "You are my _son_. No matter how you came to be that, and what you might think of my decisions... I have always considered you thus."

Thor reached out to him, a hand on his shoulder, and murmured, "It makes no difference in my eyes, either."

But it was clear that it had made a difference to Loki. "But... we are not family," Loki said, quietly, shoulders curving. "Not by blood. Not as I... had always thought."

"A family is not determined by blood," Odin told him.

Loki looked up, and his gaze was trembling, dark. "Then what am I?" he asked.

Odin rested his hands on his knees. "I found you, abandoned, during the war with Jotunheim," he began, and Loki's interruption was immediate, impassioned, desperate: " _No!_ "

The Allfather had not been the one who taught them to despise the frost giants. He had been cautionary, ever aware of his younger son's true nature, hidden by Odin's powerful magics. They are not our enemies, there is good among every race, a wise king would know his quarrels is with the leaders and not the people, being different is no curse...

But he could not filter them away from others and shutter them from the outside world, and the prevailing attitude of Asgard had taken root in their hearts, even at this young age. The frost giants have always been our enemy. The frost giants despise everything we are and believe in. The frost giants will come to take you away if you don't behave.

"I'm not-- I can't be!"

"You were an innocent," Odin pressed on, rising to his feet and stepping forward, a hand outstretched. "A baby, no bigger than an Asgardian child. I could not leave you to--"

"No," the boy said again, withdrawing, but Thor was behind him, catching him by the upper arms.

"You are Loki," Thor said. His own distress was obvious on his features; worry and uncertainty making his powerful frame look terribly weak. Odin was too familiar with the feeling. He held the strength to tear down and build up worlds, but he was powerless to fight this child's unhappiness. "And we are your family. No matter where you hail from!"

Loki shook his head again, shaking now, eyes rimmed with tears. He just asked, hushed, "Why... why did you take me? Why would you _ever_?"

Odin joined them, slinging his arm lightly over the young prince's shoulders. "All the worlds are made up of people," he said. "God, giant, elf, dwarf, human. We are all people. And you were a helpless baby, and the alternative would have been to leave you to die."

Something seemed to get through to him; Loki lowered his head with another tremor, and he said nothing for a beat. Then, softly, "You kept it secret?"

"Only because I knew that you would not feel that you belonged with us, here." Odin squeezed his shoulder, a half-embrace. "And you do. This is your home."

Loki looked up at him, searching his face for answers. He must have found his reassurance there, because he turned to bury his face against Odin, clinging to him for just a moment, fingers tight in his cloak. "Thank you," Odin thought he heard.

He bowed his head, feeling anxiety begin to release its iron grip on his heart. He was not such a fool that he thought his clever son's mind was entirely at peace, but at least for the moment he was accepting. And there had been no talk of trophies or tools; nothing to challenge the idea that he was wanted, and Odin was treacherously glad to have that small bit of the truth remain hidden.

Loki stepped away again after a moment, lifting a hand to brush uncomfortably at the wet tracks that tears had left on his face, and he looked up at them both. Odin watched him solemnly, and Thor with a smile.

"But that isn't all," Loki said.

Odin sighed. If only. "Our Loki had a hard time, when he learned about it. With a thousand years of certainty shaken, under great stress and greater guilt... and I fell into the Odinsleep and left him to deal with it all on his own. He decided that he must eliminate the Jotuns and all of Jotunheim, in order to prove himself a true Asgardian. When we stopped him, he thought -- that all was lost."

That moment when Loki gave up, releasing the shaft of Gungnir and giving himself to the abyss... That moment burned behind his eye, and Odin lifted a hand of his own to rub at it.

Thor took advantage of the pause, saying, "Loki was found by a race called the Chitauri. They convinced him to conquer Midgard and offer up the Tesseract to them."

"The-- the Cosmic Cube?" Loki looked uncertain.

"It had been left on Midgard some time ago, and had been retrieved by the humans there."

Odin added, "Many mortals lost their lives in the struggle, but Thor was able to bring him home. But, it was too much for him, returning as a political prisoner and a war criminal, and still feeling very much like a stranger to us. When he found an opportunity -- he escaped, and we have been scarcely able to keep up with him ever since."

These words were not so personal as the rest; a truth that affected only an unfamiliar version of himself, one that he had not even met. Loki listened to them evenly, and then turned his head to the side, murmuring, "That explains why they resent me. Not only am I a frost giant..."

But a mass murderer, no one said.

"They are fools," Thor said, firmly. "If they think you are an enemy -- if they think anything but circumstance ever made you an enemy -- they never knew you at all."

"You have so much faith in me," Prince Loki murmured, fleetingly amused.

Thor smiled again, with just the faintest hint of regret in fond blue eyes. "You were always the reasonable one."

Loki let out a small sound of frustration, folding his arms, but there was an ominous rumble outside and a dim crash. They went still, listening intently.

The sound of running soldiers almost drowned out the crack of thunder, and Thor murmured, "But there was no storm..." before the next loud rumble came with an even deeper crash. A shudder ran through the floor and the walls, toppling a few poorly-placed books from their shelves.

"Brother," Loki breathed, and they all raced as one for the exit.

The young Prince Thor stood in the wreckage of the entranceway outside, a half-dozen guardsmen strewn coughing and wincing among what had once been a sweeping archway of pillars laced with ivy and flowers. He brandished Mjolnir against his shoulder, the other hand on his hip, but he did not seem pleased with himself; his expression was as dark as the clouds above him.

"I have heard tales of the _justice_ of Asgard," he said, lip curling. "And I have a problem with it."

"Foolish boy," Odin hissed, and Thor's older self warned him, his features darkening to match, "We will talk about these 'tales' of yours. But violence is not necessary. Put down your weapon!"

"Are you seriously that much a coward?" Prince Thor demanded, agitated. "You could take me down in an instant, but you tiptoe about instead?"

Thor tensed, but did not rise to the bait, saying, "I have no need to take you down." He reached out a hand to call the other Mjolnir to him, and it arced quickly through the air -- and then stopped, hovered indecisively, and returned to the hand of his younger self. The blond boy smirked at him, proud.

"So be it," Thor muttered, reaching for his own hammer.

And in the spectacle, Odin did not notice that Prince Loki never followed them out the door.


End file.
